The Coincidental Rhyming of Grace and Embrace
by EtherealCastiel
Summary: When Castiel fixes Dean Winchester in Hell, he does not understand. But five years later, Castiel realizes that maybe he really did understand all along. And ultimately, it really was all about saving one human. Because Dean Winchester, The Man with the Angel's Grace, is forever Castiel's to save.


**_2008_**

Castiel has seen his share of damage. He has blown apart concrete buildings with a single thought. He has killed with nothing more than his voice. A single glimpse at his true grace is enough to vaporize even the strongest human.

Castiel knows destruction.

He knows death.

He knows damage.

Dean Winchester's soul is _not_ "damaged."

It is broken.

And Castiel doesn't know how to fix it.

* * *

His brothers and sisters have shunned him to the point that he doesn't know if he will ever be allowed back into Heaven. Zachariah speaks to him in tones of equal scorn, disbelief and disgust.

 _You were not supposed to care for the man, or his soul_ , he whispers angrily one day, as pillars begin to shake behind him in his fury. _You were supposed to bring him here, and let us take care of it. You are not to_ heal _him, or_ worry _for him._ _You disappoint me, Castiel. You are no brother of mine._

And Castiel falls from Heaven, for the first time, to find himself surrounded by a familiar circle of fallen trees, all speaking to him in the same voice.

 _This is where you first fell, Castiel. Now you must fall again._

* * *

Dean Winchester's soul is so beyond damaged, that it takes Castiel three years to repair it. He wishes for the help of his fellow angels; with the power of Heaven behind him, Dean would be saved in mere seconds.

But he is alone.

Castiel doesn't know how to help at first. Dean is no ordinary human. He has seen things that others haven't, been places that no one else has been, and he _knows_ things, enough to put a strain on any greater man's soul.

Castiel doesn't think there _is_ a greater man than Dean Winchester.

In the end, he repairs the damage, even if only temporarily. He can feel his family watching him, and glaring in shock at what he's done. He can hear them muttering angrily amongst themselves, maybe smiting a few humans to feel a little better.

Castiel sheds a piece of his grace, and gives it to Dean.

It is painful, certainly, and leaves Castiel unable to move for several weeks. He lies on the floor of this incorporeal room in Hell with an unconscious Dean Winchester by his side, rendered incapacitated by agony.

It will be worth it if Dean survives.

He remembers, in the hazy-yet-distinct memories he has, the first ones in his _long_ life with Dean Winchester in them. He remembers _feeling_ , for the first time, when a demon arrives at Dean's room with a long knife. He remembers a spark of emotion igniting in his heart, right after smiting the demon with a slightly pained grunt.

He remembers feeling cold and empty and broken at the thought of Dean Winchester dying.

* * *

Three more days until Dean recovers. Castiel tells Dean everything, about the war and Heaven and angels and himself, and he is surprised at how attentive Dean is. He nods and cries and shakes himself off and asks Castiel to let him go.

Castiel places his hand on Dean's shoulder, leaving behind a raised pink mark in the shape of a handprint.

 _"_ _Why did you do that?_ " comes the question.

The answer is not so simple. He wants Dean to know that he is loved, that there is someone who is watching over him. But Dean will not understand. He will be confused, and Castiel thinks that the man deserves some rest after his ordeal.

So he tells him " _When a claim is made on a human soul, it must leave a mark."_

Dean is silent. " _My soul is yours?"_

Castiel nods as he tries to ignore the tightening of his throat and the pain in his chest. _This is not normal_. But he is not a normal angel. " _Yes, Dean. Your soul is mine. And I am yours."_

He gives Dean a hug, a kiss on the forehead, and a quickly murmured apology before it's done.

Dean is back on Earth, where he belongs.

Castiel has reversed the clock, of course, ignoring death threats from his family. He doesn't want Dean to think that Castiel kept him down there for too long. He wants Dean to be able to spend more time with his family.

Days later, in a damp, shabby barn in the middle of nowhere, Castiel is heartbroken to learn that he needn't have worried.

Dean does not remember him at all.

Cas stares dejectedly at the mark on Dean's shoulder as he hears the question repeated again. " _What is this?"_

The answer comes easily this time around.

 ** _2009_**

Castiel and the rest of Heaven know Samuel Winchester as _The_ _Boy with the Demon Blood_. They do not know Dean as Castiel does: _The Man with the Angel's Grace_.

And Castiel supposes that it is better that way. Dean himself does not know. Maybe he suspects, but more likely than not, he doesn't.

Castiel will find himself staring sometimes. He stares at the handprint on Dean's shoulder and remembers the way his flesh bubbled and burned underneath Castiel's fingertips. He will stare at Dean's chest, remembering the way that he so carefully closed up every wound that the hellhound left behind.

And he remembers the moment that he transferred his grace to Dean. Sharp and bright and _burning,_ it leaves Castiel breathless at the very memory of it. To this day, he is a little weaker than before. He takes longer than his brothers or sisters to kill a demon, even if only by milliseconds. He bleeds easier, even a mortal weapon leaving a cut that takes him moments more to heal.

Unless Dean Winchester is with him.

When Dean is next to him, Castiel does not feel burdened with a missing part of his grace. He feels stronger, smoother, powerful in a way that he never had before.

Why?

He does not know.

It extends past the point of his missing soul. It's something about Dean himself that makes Castiel feel refreshed, renewed, _whole_.

Sometimes, Castiel does not know who the one with the broken soul is.

And as Dean comes striding back into the motel room once more, Castiel stands from his perch on the chair in the corner of the room and tries very, very hard not to stare.

* * *

Castiel can feel the shift in Dean's temperament. He does not need to look to see that the man has clenched his fists or is furrowing his brows. Dean's anger and resentment – because it is _only_ anger and resentment these days – roll off him in waves, as tangible and thick as the humidity in the Floridian air outside.

His irritation grows with every passing day. Castiel can, quite literally, _feel_ it. It sticks to him, a layer of guilt and annoyance covering him from head to toe, and Castiel doesn't know why Dean is so angry.

Minutes later, he learns.

Lucifer.

And Sam, The Boy with the Demon Blood, said yes.

Dean is upset for the rest of the night, the usual mood shifting between despair, hopelessness and fear, to a rage so blindingly hot and bright that Castiel is surprised that the walls don't come crumbling down upon them, right then and there.

Sometimes, he is sure that Dean would make an excellent archangel. The man has enough anger built up inside him to get the smiting done right.

Castiel holds him that night. It isn't anything more than what happened in Hell, but it seems to help. He places a gentle hand on the small of Dean's back and pulls him into an embrace.

Dean screams for a while. Sam is his only family, and he is afraid.

And then Dean cries, heart wrenching sobs, broken and desperate come climbing out of his throat.

And Castiel does not say a word. He simply rocks Dean back and forth on the creaky bed and tucks the other man's head in beneath his chin.

He thinks that Dean looks a lot smaller this way, when he is curled up into a ball in Castiel's arms. He doesn't look big or threatening or brave in the slightest.

He looks very, very afraid.

The city lights flicker that night as Castiel unfurls his wings, for the first time in decades. Lights spark and go out in a hundred-meter radius from the motel room as he curls himself around Dean, letting him feel safe and warm. Humans need comforting, Castiel knows, when they are sad. And Dean Winchester is a very sad human.

The room is dark and silent when Dean stops crying. One of Castiel's hands is resting above Dean's rib cage, and the other is right behind the handprint mark on Dean's shoulder. Dean shifts a little in the angel's grasp.

Castiel pulls him in tighter.

* * *

Dean kisses him that night, slowly and softly, until Castiel is sure that his brain may flicker and go out, just like all of those lights. Castiel lowers him onto the mattress until his body is completely covering Dean's. He tries to ignore the way that Dean's hands are shaking underneath his own, and focuses on the way Dean sighs when Castiel kisses him back. He tries to memorize the feel of Dean's hands, under his shirt, tracing up his spine, on his jawbone, shoulders, hips, waist. Dean is everywhere, and Castiel feels _complete_ , for the first time in his life.

* * *

Dean is gone in the morning, clothes gathered from the corner in which they were thrown. The keys to the Impala are missing from their hook, and the sheets on his side of the bed are cold to the touch.

Castiel does not feel quite so whole anymore.

 ** _2010_**

Castiel is standing in a ring of holy fire, staring at the flames, when he recognizes himself.

He sees himself, as he once was, in the fire.

Deadly, celestial and burning.

He is not like that anymore.

* * *

Dean looks back at him from the door, and Castiel sees disappointment in his eyes. Betrayal is boiling there, clear and bright as the fire surrounding him.

He wants to speak; he wants to apologize. He wants to pull Dean closer and explain to him that this is all for him.

This is to save Dean.

He wants to tell him everything.

But Dean is looking at him from the door with sadness written into every line on his face – and Castiel doesn't need to listen to his emotions to understand what Dean is feeling.

He yells for Dean to go, mere moments before the demons come rushing into the building.

* * *

Castiel wants to scream. _Doesn't Dean understand?_ This is for him, all for him! Castiel is doing this for _Dean._

But Dean's mind has been poisoned, by Crowley, by Sam, by Bobby, and he will not look at Castiel anymore. One encounter later, after Castiel tried to explain, Dean banished him with a sigil and an apologetically disappointed look on his face.

Castiel has not tried again.

Perhaps Dean will understand one day. It's the thought that sustains him as he steps into the room and turns to face Crowley.

And Raphael.

Castiel feels the souls stirring inside him. There is power, yes, but also pain. Millions of human souls pressing against him. Their glory is his, but so is their suffering.

Human beings suffer a lot more than Castiel knew.

Dean stares at him in terror from behind a table. His expression is one of horror, of grief, as if he has just lost a dear friend. And Castiel supposes that he _has_ , in a way, lost a close friend.

But then again, was Castiel ever really a friend to Dean? He likes to think so, and maybe it's because he likes to assume that Dean was loved and taken care of. But it's also because maybe, it made him happy to make Dean happy.

He wants to be Dean's friend.

But as Raphael is reduced to a smear of blood on a wall, Castiel supposes that it's a little too late to start being friends with Dean Winchester.

 ** _2012_**

Purgatory takes nearly everything Castiel has.

Leviathan are chasing him at every turn.

Monsters that he has never even heard of can corner him if he lets his guard down.

He is bruised and beaten, tortured and more than half-dead at one point.

He is in pain beyond anything he has experienced before.

And, worst of all, he has lost Dean.

It will be worth it, though, if Dean survives.

* * *

Dean finds him, and Castiel lets himself be happy for exactly one second. He cannot afford this luxury, he cannot afford the hope that both he and Dean will make it out alive.

He knows that only one of them will leave.

Castiel will not allow himself to leave.

Dean hugs him when the two meet. He wraps his arms around Castiel and holds him in what is a shockingly good imitation of the one hug they shared in Hell, all those years ago. Castiel blinks away the single tear that gathers in his eye, and presses Dean forward on their path.

Dean is happy, and Castiel does not tell him of his plan. Dean will try to stop him; he will try to stay here with him. Dean doesn't deserve that.

He wants Dean to be happy.

Castiel stands by his decision. He is unwavering, a fighting machine of celestial intent and power. He is an angel, and he is prevailing over all.

But as Dean Winchester holds his hand and begs him to come – " _Come on, Cas,_ please _" –_ Castiel is only just strong enough to let go.

* * *

And Castiel falls for the third time, at the hands of Metatron.

God's scribe is not nearly as impressive as Castiel imagined. If God never showed up when Castiel prayed, he imagined that Metatron would be the next best thing.

He was wrong.

Castiel has been wrong a lot recently. He has made mistakes, but none this big.

His grace has been ripped out of his body, leaving him in agony, pain searing white-hot and flaring down his vessel. His shoulder blades ache where his wings have vanished, and he feels weak and drained and completely, utterly, empty.

He is as human as Dean Winchester

As Metatron casts him down to Earth, he can't help but hope that the piece of grace that is in Dean Winchester survives.

* * *

Castiel would describe the scene as beautiful, if he did not know the pain and suffering that it entails. His family is falling, his brothers and sisters cast down to the blue and green planet.

Because of him.

But Sam Winchester is dying, and he can hear Dean's anguished screams from where he is.

Castiel does not think that he needs his grace to understand Dean at the moment.

Dean begs him to heal his brother. Castiel cannot.

And as Dean cries and yells at him, Castiel feels heartbroken that he failed his friend again.

 ** _2013_**

Maybe there is some redemption for Castiel. Dean calls him from the hospital to ask about Ezekiel.

Castiel replies, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He can almost feel Dean tensing as Castiel speaks.

He has been cornered by six angels today. It is hard for him to walk across the street without being ambushed. Cas has thought about calling Dean, to ask him for some money or clothes.

But he is being tailed at every corner, and it is not safe for him to be out here.

He does not want to take the danger to Dean.

So he pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up tighter over his head and grits his teeth as the rain starts to fall.

* * *

And Cas is suddenly not human anymore. It's a relief, he thinks when absorbing the grace of an angel whose name he didn't even know, that he can help Dean now. He can be of assistance. He can return to perform the task he was assigned in the very beginning.

He is an angel again, still broken from a stolen grace, but it is worth it when Dean kisses him again in relief, so different from the first time, yet, just as satisfying. Dean undresses him too fast, and his mouth on Castiel's is too rushed, too panicked. He buries his face in Dean's shoulder and ignores the nausea building up in his stomach. _Dean Winchester_. The Man with the Angel's Grace.

Dean cries afterwards, silent tears running rivulets down his cheeks. Castiel cups his face in his hands and kisses him again, Dean's lips are salty-sweet and chapped and they trace unspoken words over his own. _Don't cry, Dean. Please,_ Castiel says, to a quiet, dark room and a crying Dean Winchester. He wants to take Dean into his arms and kiss away the pain, hold him until his broken soul isn't quite so broken anymore.

 _Cas_ , Dean whispers, almost reverently. _Don't go, please._

And Castiel smiles, at the nickname, and the way that Dean's hands are clutching desperately at Castiel's.

 _Cas, I-_

But Castiel won't let him say it, because there are three words that have been building up inside him for a while now, and he can't let Dean say them. Dean doesn't need to say them. They've been there for years, and Castiel understands now. Because this has all been for Dean, and he _understands_ now. Ever since Castiel repaired him all those years ago, he's started to realize. And it's okay with him.

Everything he's done for Dean Winchester are the only things in his life that he finds worth counting. Dean is the only part of him that Castiel finds worthy of measuring.

Castiel can feel part of his grace inside Dean Winchester. It doesn't strain to be a part of Castiel anymore, to return home, because Dean Winchester _is_ a part of him now, whether he likes it or not. And Castiel has found a home in Dean Winchester, The Man with the Angel's Grace.

Castiel's grace.

He kisses Dean again.

Castiel is whole at last.


End file.
